


Timestamp IV:  5 months later (over 9 months since Alastair's attack on Dean)

by Chicktar



Series: Take a Look to the Sky 'Verse [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Cas, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Sex, Cutting, Established Relationship, Insecure Dean, Knotting, Lots of fluff mixed in with the smut this time, M/M, Masochism, Nipple Clamps, Omega Dean, Oral Sex, Pain Kink, Painplay, Praise Kink, Sadism, Wax Play, reference to past torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 11:16:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12703911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chicktar/pseuds/Chicktar
Summary: This is it--the final scene I have planned for our boys.Cas has been busy with career stuff and planning some special surprises for Dean and Dean almost lets his insecurities get the better of him.  But Cas reveals his surprises for a wonderful happy (and smutty) ending.





	Timestamp IV:  5 months later (over 9 months since Alastair's attack on Dean)

“FUCK!” Dean yelled, swinging his body around and clutching his hurt hand to his stomach, rocking a bit in place with the pain.  What was wrong with him?  He’d felt off for weeks now—at work his body didn’t seem to belong to him and at home nothing felt right lately.

As the pain subsided to a more manageable throbbing, he stood upright and held his hand out in front of himself.  He stretched his fingers out—nothing broken.  He shook his hand and winced at the sharp pain.   _ Idiot. _

On cue, Bobby’s voice shouted, “What’d ya do now, ya idjit?”, followed by Bobby, slamming out the front door and over to the driveway.

“It’s nothing, Bobby.  I just dropped the wrench.  It’s fine.”

Bobby stopped in front of Dean and eyed his hands as Dean flexed.  “Hmmph.  You need to be more careful.”  He looked up and waited until Dean met his eyes.  “You alright?  It ain’t like you to be so clumsy.”

“I’m fine, Bobby.”  He clenched his fingers and stretched them out again.  He pressed his other hand’s thumb into his palm.   _ Oh yeah, that’s gonna leave a serious bruise for a while. _  But the sharpness of the pain had receded—it didn’t feel broken.

“Dean, look at me.”

He looked up again.  Bobby was frowning. 

“Is everything okay with you and Cas?”

“Of course.  We’re good.  I’m fine, Bobby.  I just need to be more careful, that’s all.  Now, speaking of Cas, he comes back tomorrow, so either help me finish, or go inside so I can get this done and get home.  Sam’s coming over.”

Bobby snorted, but after a few seconds he nodded and walked around Dean to lean over the engine and pull the offending wrench out from where it had dropped in a gap next to the engine block.  

An hour and a half later, Dean was in the kitchen at his house—well, Cas’s house, but he thought of it as his now—starting to brown the ground beef for spaghetti.  He heard the knock on the door and heard it open, and as he swung around, all hell broke loose.  He felt something tug at his hip, and turned back around just in time to see the frying pan—beef, grease, and all—fly off the stovetop toward his legs and the floor.  He ended up in a rumpled heap on the floor, surrounded by hot grease and partially cooked hamburger meat, his legs stinging here and there where he felt the grease through his chinos.  A second later, Sam rushed around the corner and after taking in the sight, burst into laughter. 

“Great, Sam.  Thanks a lot.  This shit is hot.  You could actually help, you know?  Like turn the burner off and maybe get the broom and mop.”

“Oh shit, Dean,” Sam said, instantly sober.  “Are you burned?  You should get out of those clothes.”  He rushed around the mess and reached a long arm over to turn off the burner on the stove.

“Yeah.  Plus, dinner is fucked.  I’m sorry, man.”

“Don’t worry about it.  We’ll order something.  Just go, I’ll work on cleaning this up.”

Dean was on his feet now, and he could feel a stinging sensation as his pants rubbed against the skin of his legs.  “Thanks.  Get yourself a beer.  I’ll be back.” 

When he got his clothes off, he could see a variety of red spots on his thighs.  Nothing bad, just first degree burns—the kind that were red and irritated, but would fade within the week with no permanent scars as long as he treated the skin okay.  After he cleaned and treated the burns, he put on soft, loose sleep pants and a fresh t-shirt and made his way back down to the kitchen.  Sam had already cleaned up the worst of the mess and was just mopping the floor.  As Dean approached, Sam reached out to the counter, picked up a cold beer that was waiting there and handed it to him.

Dean took a long pull and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling some of the tension in his muscles relax.  “Thanks, Sammy.”

“No problem.  Sit down and figure out what to order.”  He nodded to a stool at the counter and Dean headed that way.  Not very long ago, he would have bristled at an instruction like that from his little brother, thinking that Sam was trying to exercise his alpha authority over Dean.  But he had relaxed during the last—what, almost nine months?—with Castiel.  He just reached over to the take-out menus stack and started reading the options to Sam.

When the food arrived—Chinese—they settled on the living room couch with everything spread out on the coffee table and some tunes playing on the stereo.  They talked for a while about Sam’s decision to ask Gabriel to move in with him.  He said it like he was still trying to decide, but Dean knew Sam had already made his decision, even if Sam didn’t know that yet.

“You like him, right, Dean?”

“Are you kidding?  The guy drives me crazy.  I can’t believe you went for such a smartass.”  He rolled his eyes dramatically.

“I know.  But…you get it, though, right?”  Sam’s voice was quieter and he was looking at Dean with his eyebrows sunk down on the sides and his forehead all scrunched up.  For Christ’s sake...

“Yeah, Sam.  I get it.  If he makes you happy, then I’m happy.”

He watched the stress in Sam’s face just smooth out like magic and that huge grin spread out, and Dean couldn’t help but smile back at the joy beaming out of his little brother.

“So let’s talk about you, then, for a change,” Sam said.  “What’s going on with you lately?”

“Well, nothing much different, I guess.  Work is okay, kind of slow lately, but—”

“No, Dean.  What’s going  _ on _ with you?  You’ve been…you’ve seemed…sort of… _ off _ lately.”

Dean stared at Sam.  “What?  You mean, just ‘cuz I’ve gotten some bumps and bruises lately?  I don’t think a couple clumsy moments mean I’m  _ off _ , Baby Bro.”

“That’s not all.  You’re distracted and you don’t seem…  Look, ever since you got together with Castiel you’ve been the happiest I’ve ever seen you in my entire life.  Like, kid in a candy store happy.  Until the last couple weeks.  And now you’re…I don’t know how to describe it, but I know something is wrong.”

Dean looked at Sam.  His brother.  The most important person in his life.  Probably even more important than Cas.  He should have realized that Sam would be sensitive to his moods now that they lived in the same town again.  It was one thing to hide his life from Sam when he was half a world away, but a whole nother to try to do that now.

“I…honestly, Sam…I don’t really know.  I’m just…Cas has been so busy the last month, first with his deadline and now with traveling so much for this book tour.  I…at first I thought I was just missing him.  And missing…you know….  I haven’t gone without sex this long in something like ten fucking years.  But lately, I think….  I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

“I just…I can see the writing on the wall, man.  I don’t think this is gonna last much longer.”  He felt a stabbing sensation deep inside his chest when he said out loud what he’d been thinking for days now.  He had to force himself to keep his hand from moving to grab at his chest as if he could fix what was aching there.

“What!?”  Sam looked alarmed and his voice was high-pitched.  He seemed more worried than Dean had expected.  “What do you mean?  Why would you say that?”

Dean swallowed.  His throat was dry and it hurt to think.  “Come on, Sam.  How long did you think this could work with Cas and me?”  He didn’t want to have to say it out loud.  He didn’t want to have to explain how Cas was clearly starting to realize that Dean was just more trouble than he was worth—that he wasn’t what Cas had thought he was.

“Forever.  I thought it could work forever.”  Sam’s voice was almost a whisper.  But somehow it was still firm.  Solid.  Filled with conviction.

Dean knew then.  He knew he’d never make Sam understand.  Sam, who believed in Dean even more than Cas had at the beginning.  Sam would never get that Dean just had nothing to offer someone like Castiel.  Dean’s fingers rubbed idly at the mating mark on his neck.  It was fading.  Cas hadn’t knotted Dean in almost six weeks—all they’d had time for were a few short fucks and blowjobs here and there in between Cas flying in and out of town or poring for endless hours over his computer.  No time for marathon sex, for knotting and being tied together, for tying Dean up and beating or whipping him until the pain was a symphony in his blood and body, for biting down and renewing their mating bond.

Dean dropped his food container on the table and picked up his beer.  It wasn’t the sex, though.  Well, it was, but it wasn’t.  The lack of sex and touching—yeah, Dean thought maybe it meant something.  But it could also mean nothing more than how stressed and busy and exhausted Cas was.  And he knew that going without the pain—without having his masochistic itch scratched regularly—was doing a number on his nerves.  That alone probably explained why he’d been so clumsy lately.  His body had become like a live wire and anything could set him off.

If that’s all it was, then Dean wouldn’t have been preparing himself like this.  Trying to get ready for Castiel to break things off.  He knew Cas would do it gently—would want to make everything as easy as possible for Dean.  But that would only make it hurt more.  But it wasn’t just the time and the sex.  It was that even when Cas did have time, he would spend it with someone else.  Or just out of the house on his own.   _ Shopping _ , he said.   _ Running errands _ .  Things he’d never done before.  Dean didn’t think he was having an affair.  He never smelled like any individual person—omega or otherwise.  But he just...wasn’t  _ with  _ Dean the way he had been before all of this.

“Dean, are you not in love with Cas anymore?”

Dean felt his blood in his ears.  He clutched at the sofa for a second and closed his eyes.  Concentrated on breathing deeply.  Opened his eyes and looked at Sam.  “Always,” he whispered.  Sam smiled softly.

“Well, I know Cas is in love with you.  So whatever’s wrong—just promise me you’ll talk to him about it this weekend, okay?”

This weekend.  Cas would be home tomorrow and they were supposed to spend a full four day weekend together, just the two of them.  They’d told all their friends and family and co-workers that they would be out of touch.  But Dean felt it in his bones—that the weekend was going to be Cas’s chance to end things.  His stomach was suddenly roiling and he struggled against the urge to vomit, swallowing back the bile that wanted to rise up into his mouth.

“Yeah, okay.  I promise.”

*               *               *

As soon as they were in the door, Castiel dropped his bags on the floor and swept Dean into his arms, pulling him in as tightly as he could and burying his face in his omega’s neck.  He closed his eyes and inhaled long, slow and deep.   _ Engine oil, cinnamon and jasmine.  Dean _ .  He could feel his own muscles uncoiling, and the pinched, strained ache in his forehead receding.  Dean.  This was all he needed.  All he ever needed.  He squeezed more tightly and felt Dean’s breath on his own neck, steamy and comforting.  One of Dean’s hands slid into his hair and the other fisted into his shirt behind his shoulder blade.  He let his own hands, pressed in the small of Dean’s back, pull his lover ever more tightly against his body.  He wanted to feel Dean pressed along every inch of himself.  He hummed in satisfaction as they held each other tightly and he just breathed Dean in.

Dean’s scent was off a bit—the jasmine tinged with just a little bit of something sour.  He chased it, wanting to be sure it wasn’t the former trauma haunting Dean again.  But it wasn’t rotten cabbage or spoiled milk—not the same shame and self-disgust.  But it was...something similar.  Dean was definitely not happy.  And Castiel knew it was his fault.  He’d been too busy to be the partner he should be—the alpha that Dean deserved.  But he was more than ready to make it up to Dean; he had worked hard preparing for this weekend and he prayed that what he had planned would mean as much to Dean as it did to him.

“Dean,” he murmured.  “My perfect Dean.”

He thought he felt Dean stiffen for a moment, but then it passed as Dean chuckled lightly and pulled back, starting to turn and step away toward the kitchen.

“Uh huh.  I think you’ve been gone too long, babe.  You’re getting delusional there.”

Cas tugged Dean’s arm and pulled him back in again.  He looked into Dean’s green eyes. They held the same gorgeous brightness as ever, but yes…there was something sad in them.  It reminded him of how Dean had looked in the hospital months ago.  He felt a small stabbing sort of pain in his chest.

“Where are you going?” He pressed his lips to Dean’s nose softly, then started sliding over his cheek, pressing kisses everywhere he could reach.  Dean squirmed lightly, but without real intention to get away.

“I was going to get dinner started.  You have to be hungry.”

“Mmm,” Castiel hummed, “not nearly as hungry as I am for you.”  He let his hand slide into Dean’s hair and tug his head back, exposing that gorgeous neck…a little bit rough with stubble—something Castiel loved on Dean.  He rubbed his own cheek against the roughness of Dean’s bristly chin and then slid his lips over Dean’s neck, sucking on his Adam’s apple.  He ran his tongue over Dean’s skin and tasted that wonderful combination of soap and a tiny bit of sweat and something so sweet, so  _ Dean _ .  He felt his own hips rocking forward to grind against Dean and realized he was hard as a rock.  He felt desperate and needy and suddenly overwhelmed with urgency.

“Dean, please,” he rumbled into his omega’s neck. “I need you.”

Dean’s scent was full of sandalwood now, but Cas could have sworn he felt that sudden slight stiffness and tension in the omega as he had spoken.  But it was only there for a second or two and then Dean melted against him and whispered, “Alpha…I need your cock,” in his ear and Castiel heard himself growl.  He slid his hands under Dean’s ass and hefted the omega up around his hips.  Dean obediently wrapped his legs around Cas’s waist and Cas bounded up the stairs.

*               *               *

Cas pressed his face into the back of Dean’s neck and let his hand drift softly over Dean’s warm, solid chest.  He loved being pressed up against Dean’s body like this, the feel of his soft round ass cheeks, a bit cool and wet from his slick and Cas’s come, sliding against Cas’s cock.  The solid warmth of his legs and his back.  The tantalizing smell that was only Dean.  His scent was still off, though.  Even after Cas had now been home for hours and Dean had come twice—once riding Cas, and once spurting into the air as Cas rimmed him.  Even after they’d had a light dinner and come back to bed to watch a movie and cuddle together.  Even after Dean had fallen asleep in his arms for what felt like the first time in weeks even though they were mated and lived together.  There was still that underlying whiff of something… _ wrong _ .  If anything, it was getting stronger.  Maybe there was a little vinegar to it, but it wasn’t fear, he thought.  At least not the same kind of fear Dean had when he still had the occasional nightmares about Alastair.

He pressed his body tighter against Dean’s and thought about tomorrow.

*               *               *

Dean felt like he was going to jump out of his skin.  Every moment of the last 24 hours with Cas home had been perfect—almost too perfect.  It was making everything worse.  He’d been so sure he was cool and calm and collected.  Yes, Castiel was—had been—his mate.  And a better partner and mate than Dean had ever dreamed of having.  They had been building their own little world together, and Dean had never known it could be like that.  But in the back of his mind, he’d always known it would have to end—that his time with Cas was on a short lease.  And he’d been prepared.  Well, he thought he’d been prepared.  He would just go back to his old life: lots of good sex with friendly acquaintances, and the occasional partner he could find in a club to help temper his other needs and urges.  It hadn’t been such a bad life.  He would have to move.  His old house next door was up for sale, but even if he took it off the market, he couldn’t ever live there again.  Never mind the memories of what Alastair had done to him there—it was living next to Cas that he knew he couldn’t handle.

He heard Cas’s office door shut and looked up.  Cas was walking down the hallway toward him with his arms loaded down.  He had one arm wrapped around a bucket of ice with what looked like champagne sticking out of it, and the other arm wrapped around a large gift-wrapped cylinder, with two champagne flutes in his hand.  He knelt down next to the coffee table and set the items down in front of Dean, then relaxed onto the floor at Dean’s feet, leaning one arm onto the couch and letting his hand rest on Dean’s thigh.  His blue eyes looked up at Dean and his smile was like sunshine.

Dean’s hand automatically reached out and cupped Cas’s face, resting his palm against his alpha’s cheek.   _ God, he’s so fucking gorgeous.  _  Cas closed his eyes and leaned into Dean’s hand, and his smile softened a bit, lips closing, but it didn’t fade.  Dean realized there was soft music playing that Cas must have put on at some point and the lights were lowered.  The candles they kept scattered through the room were all lit, though Dean didn’t remember Cas doing it.  His stomach clenched and he felt lost and confused.  Could…could Cas really be giving him a pre-breakup present, for fuck’s sake? 

“What’s—”  Crap.  His voice sounded insane.  He cleared his throat.  “What’s all this?”  Better.  “It’s not my birthday, you know, Cas.”

Cas squeezed his leg briefly then reached over and pulled out the champagne bottle and started working the foil off.  “I know.  But I have a gift for you anyway.  And I have a couple more surprises for you after that.”

Dean swallowed.  “Uh…I don’t have anything for you.”

Cas set the bottle down on the table and looked up at him.  He rose up on his knees and reached out to hold Dean’s hands in his own.  They were cold now from the champagne.  He stared into Dean’s eyes and Dean felt a lightheadedness wash over him.  He was suddenly glad he was sitting down.  “Dean, you being here with me is all the gift I could ever ask for.”  Cas’s blue eyes pierced into him and Dean suddenly wondered if he had it all wrong.  But he couldn’t risk hoping for that.  He closed his eyes for a minute and forcibly pulled the steel back into his spine.  When he opened them again, Cas was still staring at him, but he was starting to look concerned.

  
Dean smiled and said, “Well, alright then, let’s get the bubbly going.  Is this a celebration or what?”  He was proud of how light and airy he sounded.

For a second, a confused expression crossed Castiel’s face, but then his smile was back and he turned back to the champagne, saying, “Well, aren’t you going to open your gift, then?”

Dean watched the alpha work the foil off and start pressing his thumbs against the cork.  Then he looked over at the present, a round column wrapped in gold paper, with a large red ribbon around it tied into a bow.  He scooted forward to perch on the edge of the couch and tugged at the ribbon, pulling it free.  He rolled the cylinder in his hands and found the paper edge and peeled it back, rolling the gift over until the paper all came free and he could drop it on the floor to one side.  The item in his hands looked like a large poster or roll of paper.  He unrolled it until it was a large flat stack of paper lying on the table, bound at one end like a project folder.  The top page was simply bold letters in all caps, reading, “WINCHESTER CLASSIC CARS”.

Castiel’s hand came before him holding out a filled champagne flute, and Dean took it without thought and took a sip.  Peachy and a little dry.  Perfect.  Of course.

“Go on, aren’t you going to look at the rest?”

He looked over at Cas, who was smiling at him expectantly and sipping from his own glass.

He turned back to the papers and flipped the page.  Blueprints.  Construction drawings.  He turned more pages.  Large empty spaces, lines for walls, fine print with details about equipment, hydraulic lift installations, plumbing, lighting.  “What—”

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, but I’ve already set up the purchase and construction funding.  All you would have to do is say you want it.”

“What are you talking about, Cas?”

“A classic car restoration shop.  Yours.  Since your house isn’t selling anyway, I thought we could maybe tear it down and build the shop right next door.”

His mind was reeling.  How did Castiel know this was what he’d always wanted?  He was sure he’d never said anything about it to Cas.  Hell, he’d never told Bobby or Sammy.  It wasn’t like he was ever going to be able to earn enough money working at the auto shop to finance a project like this.  So it would always have been a pipe dream.  A painful one that he could never fulfill.  And it was so much less painful if he didn’t talk about it and make it real.

“I…Cas, I can’t afford this.”

He watched Cas’s face twist in…something.  Concern?  Confusion?  Cas put his glass down on the table and leaned into Dean, wrapping an arm around his side and letting his hand fall to rub at Dean’s back.

“Dean, this is a gift.  If you want it.  You wouldn’t have to pay a dime.”

Dean could feel himself staring at Cas.  “Cas, I can’t…”

  
“Dean, please, listen to me.  I love you.  I know you get satisfaction from your current work, but it isn’t your dream.  This is.  Isn’t it?”

_ Yes.  This.  And you.  _  He could feel tears swelling in his eyes.   _ Fuck.   _ He was going to cry.  He was going to ruin the last hours he had left with Cas.  He couldn’t speak.  He nodded.  Cas’s soft smile made a warm feeling spread in his shoulders.

“If I can help make your dream a reality, make your life more fulfilling in any way, that’s all I want, Dean.  And it wouldn’t hurt me to have you working a heck of a lot closer to home, either.”  He winked at Dean and brought his other hand up to squeeze Dean’s leg.

“What...why would...why would you want me closer?  I can’t…Cas, I can’t do this…”  He was on his feet but he didn’t know where to go.  He moved thoughtlessly, heading down the lefthand hallway, toward the garage and their playroom.  He didn’t know where he was planning to go.  Of course Cas was right behind him, grabbing his hand halfway down the hall, turning him back to look into his worried eyes.

“Dean, what’s wrong?  Tell me.  I’m sorry, whatever I did.  I was too pushy, right?  I haven’t actually done anything we can’t undo.  I promise.  If you don’t like it, you don’t have to agree.  You can keep working at the shop or quit and do anything else you want.  I don’t care what you do, as long as you’re happy.”

A strangled sound escaped Dean’s throat.  “Why are you doing this, Cas?  Just…just fucking do it.  Break up with me now, okay?!”  His voice was pleading, but loud, the desperation clear, and he felt ashamed at how needy he sounded.

“What?  Break up with you?  Dean, why would you think that?  The last thing I would ever want is to break up with you.”

“You’ve been...we’ve been...I’m not…”

Then Cas was pulling him into his arms, and the warm scent of his alpha was everywhere, and his body was pressed up against Dean’s and Dean clung to him like he would drift away in a current otherwise.  Cas held him and pressed his face into Cas’s neck, and he inhaled crackling fires and peppermint and gave in and cried.  “Oh, Dean,” Cas whispered into his ear.  “I’m sorry I’ve been away so much.  I should have paid more attention to you.  My precious omega.  I’m so sorry.”

Dean leaned hard against Cas and kept breathing deeply, letting himself cry at first, and then feeling Cas’s scent of balsam and cotton candy and  _ home  _ seeping into him and calming him.  Castiel was rumbling in his ear about how he’d been so busy with his tour and his deadlines and planning his surprises for Dean, and gradually Dean could feel his own shaking subside and his mind begin working again.  Had he been wrong?

Castiel pulled back and tried to look at him but Dean couldn’t find his courage yet—couldn’t look up and meet Cas’s eyes.  Then Cas dropped to his knees in front of Dean, his hands sliding to Dean’s hips, his eyes looking up into Dean’s face.  Dean couldn’t look away.  Cas smiled softly at him in that encouraging way he had that would have made him feel belittled coming from anyone other than Castiel.

“I was planning to do this a little later this evening.  Dinner, flowers, the whole thing.  I swear it would have been really romantic.”  He smiled and Dean could feel that lost, confused feeling coming over him again.  Cas pulled one arm away from Dean and dug into his pocket, squeezing Dean’s hip with the other hand as if to reassure that he wasn’t going anywhere.  Dean stared down as Cas produced something from his pocket.  A small cube.  A small velvety, slightly rounded cube.  He held it up in front of his face.  To Dean.

Dean’s heart had completely stopped beating.  And then it was racing, pounding in his chest like it would leap out.   _ Oh shit.  Holy fuck. _  He could feel the idiotic blank expression on his face, but Cas was still looking up at him with that goofy sunshine smile that he got sometimes when he looked at Dean.

“Dean, you are my life.  I want to spend all of my days with you.  I want to grow old with you.”

Dean’s knees shook and he dropped down to the floor.  He couldn’t stay upright on his knees like Cas—he was shaking too much.  He slumped back onto his heels, staring in front of him.  At Cas.  And the box.

Cas opened the box and held it forward to Dean.  Two silver-gray bands, with a matching perfect, symmetrical, geometric design, were nestled inside.  They were masculine and solid, and the design was like the perfect melody of a favorite song.

“Dean Winchester, I love you.  Everything I am, have ever been or ever will be belongs to you.  Will you marry me?”

Dean could feel the tears sliding down his face.  He stared at Cas on his knees and looking at Dean with that open, adoring stare.  His strong alpha.  Who could tear apart a mob of angry alphas if he wanted to.  On his knees.  For Dean.  His.   _ Yes.  Of course yes _ .

But Cas was still waiting.  Because he hadn’t said it out loud.  He swallowed.  He wasn’t shaking anymore.  His heart was calm and steady.  It was as if everything had fallen back into place.  And it would stay that way if he could just figure out how to speak.  He licked his lips.  He opened his mouth.  Nothing happened.  He closed it.  He looked at Cas, and he could feel his eyes still leaking tears like a faucet.  He nodded.

And apparently that was enough because Cas grinned even wider, dropped the box to the ground and surged forward, wrapping Dean in his arms and tugging him into the alpha’s lap.  He rocked Dean back and forth and rumbled into Dean’s ear, “Oh thank God.  I love you so much, Dean.  I’m so sorry.  Please forgive me.  I can’t believe I didn’t realize how you were feeling.  Oh Dean…my Dean…my precious…  I love you.  I love you.  I love you.”

*               *               *

They had stayed there in the hallway so long, holding each other while Dean cried his tears of relief turning to joy and satisfaction, that Cas’s legs had lost all feeling and Dean had to massage them back to life before his alpha could walk back to the living room.  Then they had pored together over the shop blueprints, and Dean had watched Cas’s eyes light up as he explained everything his architect and mechanic consultants had advised, while reassuring Dean he could change anything he wanted.  They drank champagne and sat on the couch talking about Cas’s trip and Dean’s shop until their words just drifted off and they were just there on the couch, Dean lying between Cas’s legs as the alpha stroked his hair.  It was nice.  It was perfect.  But he still needed one more thing.  As happy as he was, his nerves were jangled with the excitement and tension of the last week and especially the last few hours.  And he didn’t know how to calm them down on his own.

“Cas?”

“Mmm?”

“Could you…will you do something for me?”

Cas’s lips brushed against his hair softly.  “Anything.”

“Will you hurt me?  Please?”  Cas groaned and his hips rocked up into Dean’s stomach.  Dean could feel his half-hard cock and felt a jerk in his own groin in response.

“God, yes, Dean.  I would love to.”  They laid there for a few more seconds, then Cas said, “I had something pretty intense planned, but we’ve already been through so much tonight, I think I want to hold off on that until tomorrow.”  Dean’s mind started spinning with excitement.  Cas had an intense pain scene he’d been planning for Dean.  And they would get to do that tomorrow.  He could feel his tension soothing already.  “We will need the playroom for that, so let’s just go to the bedroom for now.  I think I have something we can do that will take care of you for tonight and not interfere with what I want to do tomorrow.  Does that sound okay?”  His lips pressed against Dean’s hair again.

“Yeah.  That sounds awesome,” Dean managed.

And it  _ was  _ awesome.  Cas took him to bed, applied his nipple clamps with their second-to-heaviest weights and then put Dean onto his hands and knees.  He spent a little while dripping wax onto Dean’s upper back, stretching out the scene… just letting Dean feel the pressure on his nipples longer.  And he said the slight sting on Dean’s back would be a nice plus for tomorrow.  Then finally he brought out his severest paddle, and Dean almost came right then.  He asked Cas for the cane, but Cas refused.  Dean gave in easily, feeling secure again now, already getting what he needed and knowing more was coming the next day.

Then Cas used the paddle on his ass.  Slowly.  Steadily.  Like a force of nature.  Spewing praise about how perfect Dean was in between each stroke.  Telling Dean how beautiful he looked.  How strong he was.  How tantalizing his scent was.  How generous he was.  How smart.  How talented.  The weights swung wildly each time the paddle slammed into Dean and they tugged on his nipples, the pain beginning to feel almost unbearable.  Dean’s cock throbbed and jerked and leaped.  And Cas called Dean amazing.  Sexy.  Gorgeous.  Precious.  Until Dean begged for Cas to fuck him.  Then Cas said “Not yet,” and tugged hard on one of the weights and Dean came hard, his come jerking out onto the bedspread underneath him.  And after his orgasm had passed, Cas brought the paddle down again and Dean could feel his cock jerk immediately, already trying to get hard again.  And of course it did.  And Cas worked him over until Dean was pleading again for Cas’s cock.  Then finally Cas lubed himself up and slid inside Dean, and when he was fully seated, pressed up tight against Dean’s ass, he reached around and released the clamps from Dean’s nipples and Dean screamed with the pain as the blood rushed back.  Then Cas fucked him through the pain, babbling endlessly about how good Dean felt, how perfect his ass was, how perfect he smelled, how perfect he looked, how perfect he was, and Dean’s ass stung every time Cas slammed against it and his nipples ached and throbbed and his back stung and Cas’s cock was hot and hard and felt so huge inside of him, and when Cas finally thrust inside him one last time, forcing him down into the mattress and pressing all of his weight down on Dean’s sore, chafed ass and back, he came again, his cock jerking and twitching underneath him, pressed against the bed.

Later, Cas cleaned him up, removed the bedspread, rubbed lotion into Dean’s back and ass, put a soothing gel on his nipples and laid back, tugging Dean to curl up on his side against his alpha.  Dean fell asleep with Cas still whispering soft praise into the night, his fingers lightly grazing over Dean’s sore back.

*               *               *

“It’s okay, Cas, I’m here.  We’re at home.  Together.  I’m safe.  Okay?”  It was Dean.  Dean’s voice.  He sounded strong and sure.  But Cas had just seen him, lying on his kitchen floor, covered in blood and piss and come, bruised and broken and…  “Cas, listen to me.  It’s Dean.  I’m safe.  You made me safe.  Alastair is gone.  You already took care of him.  We’re together.  And we’re okay.  We’re better than okay.”  Castiel tugged his eyes open.  His bedroom.  Dean’s face.  Not bloody.  Not bruised.  Perfect.  And whole.  “See?  It was just a dream.”  Dean’s lips, soft and warm, pressing against his.  He pulled Dean toward him, feeling that inevitable flinch as Cas’s hand slid over Dean’s stomach.  The one piece of his trauma that had never left him.  He still hated those words.  Still saw some kind of truth in them.  Still feared Cas would see it too someday.  Castiel may have missed how worried Dean was about Cas’s absence lately, but he had never missed this.  But not for much longer.  He had a plan he hoped and prayed would help Dean heal that last aching wound.  Today.  He tugged Dean tighter against him and smiled as Dean’s hips rocked a bit, rubbing his growing cock against Cas’s hip.

But Dean didn’t take it far.  He just enjoyed it for a few moments then stilled against Cas, letting his fingers drift over Cas’s chest.  “You okay, Cas?  You don’t usually have dreams like that.  I thought that was kinda  _ my  _ thing.”

“I’m fine now.  But I am sorry I let you get so worried about us.  I didn’t think about how my time working on my surprises for you would combine with everything else going on to leave you feeling…the way you did.”

  
“It’s okay, Cas.  They’re my issues, not yours.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Well, the surprises were definitely worth it,” Dean said, rolling up and over onto Castiel, straddling his hips.

“Hmm…and they’re not over yet,” Cas said, running his hands up and over Dean’s hips, tugging the omega into a rocking motion, sliding their cocks together, enjoying the soft, easy friction.  “I’ve got one more surprise for you today.  So no orgasms for you until then,” he said, throwing Dean off and getting out of bed abruptly.

He smiled at the affronted noise Dean made and headed to the shower.  “You better get a good breakfast,” he called back.  “I’m planning to take my time with you after that and really take you apart.”  He heard Dean’s soft “fuck” as he stepped in the shower and chuckled.

They did have a good breakfast—waffles and bacon, with fresh fruit on the side that Cas cut while Dean cooked.  They ate quietly, and Cas could see that Dean was back in a better place again.  After they’d finished cleaning up, Dean stepped up to Cas, tight and close, chest to chest and said, his voice low and hungry sounding, “So do I get my last surprise now?”

Cas wrapped his arms around Dean, letting his hands slide over his round, plump ass cheeks.  “I don’t know…how do you feel today?” He punctuated the question with a hard squeeze that must have hurt after yesterday’s paddling.  Dean let out a low gasp, but Cas could see he was far from ready to back down.  He looked like it just made him hungrier for more.   _ God, he’s so fucking perfect. _

“I feel good, Cas.”  Dean tilted his head and leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Cas’s neck just below the jawline.  “I feel too good, Cas.”  Another kiss, a little lower and to the right.  “I think I need you to make me feel bad.”  A slow, long lick, up the hollow of his throat.  Cas could almost feel the blood draining down his body and into his groin.  Heat swelled in his back and shoulders.  God, how could he already need to be inside his omega again so badly?

He slid his hands up to Dean’s arms, gripped him hard and pressed him back a pace.  “Alright, omega.  Then I have a little preparation to do, first.  Come meet me in the playroom in fifteen minutes.”  He could feel Dean shiver a little at the order and his alpha tone.  He thought for a minute that Dean would refuse as a matter of mere principle, but then he scented the sandalwood and vanilla in Dean’s scent, and Dean was nodding and then pulling away, his hand drifting to his groin as he went.

 

When Dean came into the playroom, Cas thought he was ready.  He watched Dean’s eyes scan the room, taking in the preparations.  On the worktable, Cas had a towel.  It was obviously covering something—tools, toys, some rough bumps betraying that there were smallish items spread out there.  The blankets and pillows had been removed from the bed.  Dean couldn’t see beneath the spare sheets that Cas had placed a laminated, liquid-proof fabric layer down.  It wouldn’t be the right sensation, so Cas needed the regular sheets to be against Dean’s—against  _ their _ —skin, but they could afford to lose a spare sheet once in a while in the name of Dean’s pleasure.  Especially for this.

Dean stepped in and over to Cas, and Cas stepped forward, taking Dean’s chin in his fingers and kissing him, slow and hard.  His tongue found Dean’s and he felt his own tensions melt in the wet heat of Dean’s mouth, of Dean’s passion and desire and need.  He could feel his cock swell and jerk with interest, and thought about what a long, tantalizing time it would have to wait for its release.  He pulled back, already panting, and felt his heat rise further when he noted Dean was panting, too.

He cupped Dean’s face in his hands and pressed a soft kiss to Dean’s lips, then led him over to one of the stools at the table.  Dean sat, looking slightly surprised, but didn’t say anything.  He sat down on the stool next to him.

“I know this isn’t your favorite part, but we need to talk about a few things before we start.”

Dean rolled his eyes theatrically, but nodded without saying anything else.  A joke.  And an affirmation.

“First, I think we should treat this the way we would a D/s scene.  You will obey all of my commands unless you want to use your safeword.  It won’t be a full submissive scene, but I need you to have a safeword and a way to end things if you want or need to.  And I will need you to follow orders, especially staying still when I ask you to.  Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, sure.”  Dean nodded.

“I need you to promise me to use your safeword if at any time you feel the need.”

“Okay, Cas.”

“Please…promise me.”

“I promise.”  There was a smile in Dean’s voice, although he kept his expression grave.

Castiel pulled a portion of the towel on the table back, revealing the ring box and a glass of water and a pill.

“I…was hoping we could wear our rings…”  He could hear the strange tentativeness in his voice.  He knew Dean had been happy to be asked and he’d said yes, but then they had both just forgotten the rings in their clutch of need and hunger for closeness after.

“Fuck yeah,” Dean said, reaching for the box, then stopping at the last minute.  Instead he looked over at Cas and held his left hand out toward him.

Cas felt a little dazed as he reached for the ring box and pulled the front ring out and took Dean’s hand, nervously sliding the ring onto his finger.  Dean slid it around with his fingers and held his hand out admiring it for a moment.  He was smiling a sort of soft, sweet smile that Cas rarely got to see.  Then he reached out and took the other ring out of the box and reached for Cas’s hand, and Cas watched him slide it on.  Something in his chest was tugging out toward Dean, and Cas suddenly knew that if he ever lost Dean, he wouldn’t survive it.  This beautiful, precious man was more a part of him than any other person had ever been, than anything he’d written had ever been, somehow more than his own body had ever been.  They kissed again, long and slow and sweet, and Cas felt the tug in his chest relaxing, settling in, right where it belonged.

When Dean pulled back, Cas gestured to the pill.

“Is that for me?”

“No.  It’s for me.  If it’s okay with you.”

Dean squinted at it.  Then raised his eyebrows.  “A knot fix.”

“Yes.  We’re not in heat or rut, but today…I want to be able to knot you.  It may be rougher on you outside of heat, but I didn’t think you’d want a heat fix.”

“Shit, Cas.  You don’t have to ask.  I always want your knot.”

“Well, I  _ am _ asking.”

“And I’m saying fuck, yeah.”

Cas smiled and reached for the pill, swallowing it down with a sip of water.  Then he sat back and looked at Dean.  Okay, now for the biggie.

“Okay, so the last thing is…what I have planned….  It’s the first time anything we do would leave a permanent mark.  Scars, really.  It wouldn’t be anywhere visible outside your usual clothes.”

“It’s fine, Cas.”  Cas could tell Dean wasn’t just fine with it—that he was excited.  He knew from their conversations that Dean had been seriously into cutting and they had touched on it once, but only in a spot on Dean’s thigh where he had scars from his own prior experimentation.  No new scars—no new or changed marks.  And never without discussing in detail exactly where each cut would be.

“I want you to really be sure, Dean.  I need to know you trust me with this fully.  If not, we can wait and it do it someday later.  Or never.”

“Cas, I’m sure.  I trust you.”

Castiel looked at Dean.  He didn’t know what he’d been hoping for.  Why he had thought he would have to convince Dean or explain to him, reassure him and ask for his trust.  He guessed it wasn’t Dean who was unsure today.  It was him.  And he couldn’t be sure he was right about what he wanted to do until it was done.  But he could be sure that Dean wanted it, even without knowing the end result.  Dean just wanted the sensation—the pain and the arousal and the two of them enjoying it together.  And then Cas realized that was enough.

He smiled at Dean and said, “Okay.  Then I want you to strip and lay down on your back on the bed.”

Dean grinned and jumped to his feet.  Cas took his time tying Dean’s wrists and ankles to the bed.  He needed to be tied more firmly than usual, but Cas wanted to be sure the stress on his joints or chafing on his skin wouldn’t be too bad.  Then he pulled a long strip of black cloth out and walked over to the bedside. 

“Is this okay?”

Dean nodded.  He was just starting to get hard, his cock swelling a little in its nest of hair.  Cas wrapped the blindfold around his head and tied it off at the side.  He leaned over and pressed his lips to Dean’s cheek and said quietly, letting his breath breeze onto Dean’s ear, “If I leave this room at any time, I will tell you and will never be gone for longer than three minutes.  If you need me, call out my name or your safeword at any time, and I will be right here and remove the blindfold right away, okay?”

“Okay.  I got it, Cas.”

He paused there for a minute, breathing Dean in, admiring how he looked stretched out on the bed like that.

“Are you going to cut me, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean.  Is that alright?

“Fuck yeah.  That’s uh…that’s good.”  Dean was harder now, his cock standing up, still showing a bit of softness but starting to get fat and full-looking. 

Cas leaned down and swiped his tongue down Dean’s length, earning a gasp from the prone man.  Then he couldn’t help himself and pressed forward a little further and swallowed Dean down whole, enjoying the feel of his cock swelling further in his mouth, filling out and stuffing him full until he didn’t fit anymore and Cas was suckling only half of Dean’s length, swirling his tongue around the tip and listening to Dean’s breathing picking up fast.

He pulled off and smiled down at Dean’s body.  Absolute perfection.  Skin tan in places, pale in others, with freckles dotted throughout.  Firm muscle and some softer areas—just a touch here and there to show his indulgences with food and relaxation.  And those scars—showing everything he’d been through, everything he survived.

Cas impulsively straddled Dean’s thighs and leaned down to gently kiss his stomach—pressing his lips and sliding his tongue over every pale white line.  COCKSUCKER.  He grazed his lips over each letter, pressing kisses in here and there, savoring the way Dean shivered beneath him.  SLUT.  He licked along the slashing lines of the L and T.  Dean still hated these scars—after endless hours of therapy, and for more hours in Cas’s arms hearing how perfect and brave he was, he still believed they reflected some inner truth that Cas and his family simply refused to see.  TRASH.  Cas’s breath and lips moved over each letter, marveling for the thousandth time over the courage it took Dean to survive.  WHORE.  He sucked on the flesh inside the O, gently caressing the flesh with his tongue.  Not just to survive.  To smile.  To move on and forward.  To continue to start every encounter in the world from a place of warmth and generosity.  WORTHLESS.  Cas slid his lips softly over the skin, wishing as always, if only for Dean’s sake, that he were as good a man as his omega was.

He straightened up and looked down, looking again at Dean.  He seemed to be trembling a little, and his erection had flagged.  Cas should get to work—this day wasn’t about him—it was about Dean.  And he planned to make it more than good for his mate.

He scooted forward a bit and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Dean’s lips.  Dean lifted his chin, moved his head up, chasing Cas’s lips when he pulled back, but Cas stayed just out of reach.  “I’m going to have my way with you, Dean Winchester.  I’m going to give you pain and pleasure, and I’m not going to tell you which is coming or when.  And when you can barely remember your own name, then I’m going to take my own pleasure with you.  Tell me now if you have any problem with that?”

Dean shook his head.  Then a minute later said gruffly, “No, no problem, Cas.”

“Good.”  He pressed one more lingering kiss to Dean’s lips then swung off the bed and strode over to the table.  He pulled the towel off and dropped it to one side and picked up the flogger.  It was Dean’s favorite—fifteen narrow braided lashes. Perfect for the stronger bite that Dean always wanted, but still less severe, and certainly less damaging, than most of the whips in their repertoire.  He walked over to the stereo and pressed play on the CD he had mixed specially for the day.  Speed-metal guitar burst into the room, filling the air with its urgency and excited tension.  As he walked back to the bed, he swung the flogger in the air experimentally a few times. 

Then, without warning, he brought it down in a flurry of fast strikes over Dean’s shins, thighs and the tops of his feet.  He moved back and forth over his legs without stopping, moving to the beat of the music.  It was fast and energetic, and he let his arm sink into the motion, just letting the natural weight of his own arm carry the pressure and send it into Dean’s body.  It was frantic and just so fucking fun.  He rocked his body a little left and right as he swung and watched the symphony of red blooming up over Dean’s legs in time with the music.  When the song ended with a crazed rush of guitar and drums, he stopped, his arm dropping down to his side.  He was panting, and he realized Dean was, too, his chest heaving and his mouth open.  Dean’s cock was rock hard now, already dripping onto the omega’s stomach, and Cas was sporting a hard-on to match Dean’s.

After gazing down at Dean for a minute and gathering his breath, letting Dean feel the break in action and wonder what was coming next, he stepped back over to the table and set the flogger down.  He picked up the bottle of lube and the plug waiting there.  The second song was well under way now, still metal, but a slower song with more of a grinding, pulsing feel to it.  He moved to the bed and knelt between Dean’s legs, dropping the lube and plug on the bed next to them.  He ran the tips of his fingers up over Dean’s feet and up his legs.  Dean twitched and squirmed beneath him as Cas’s hands touched on the stinging, bright red flesh.

“Should I stop, Dean?”

“No!” Dean breathed immediately.  Then a second later, “Fuck, please no, Cas.  I want…”

“What do you want, Dean?”  His fingers trailed back down the omega’s legs.

Dean licked his lips.  “More.”

Cas reached for the lube and then heard Dean whisper, “You.”

He smiled and said firmly, as he applied lube to several of his fingers, “Don’t worry Dean, you’re going to have both.”  Then he settled on his stomach between Dean’s legs and slid a finger between Dean’s cheeks, finding his sweet little hole and circling it for a moment before slipping inside.  He worked slowly, again matching his actions to the feel of the music, working a finger in and then two, then just enjoying the sensation of being inside Dean and watching his reactions.  He took his time, not rushing it, opening Dean up carefully and slowly, avoiding his prostate until he was up to four fingers.  He wanted to be sure Dean would be able to take his knot later—something they had never done outside of Dean’s heat before.  Dean was leaking slick now and the scent was tantalizing Cas, but he wasn’t done taking Dean to the brink yet.  He let two more songs play while he worked, occasionally dropping his mouth down to suckle Dean’s balls or lick and suck at his thighs, taste of Dean’s slick.  Then when the fifth song came on, picking the pace back up, Cas shifted his efforts to match.  He started fucking Dean with his fingers, stroking against his prostate every so often as he wrapped his lips around the straining, swollen head of Dean’s cock.

He tasted so good, Cas almost forgot his plan and just sucked him hard and purposefully, longing to feel him pulse his come out into his mouth—to taste Dean right now.  But Dean’s loud groan and the sounds and feel of Dean tugging his arms reflexively against the restraints called him back.  Still rocking his fingers—fuck, he was so close to being able to slide his full hand inside of Dean, and he closed his eyes for a moment to try to calm down from the flash of thought about how fucking hot that would be—roughly in and out of Dean, he pulled his mouth off and said in a rough, loud tone, making sure to pierce through the music, “You’re not going to come, Dean.”  Dean’s body immediately stiffened, and Cas smirked at the reaction.  “You’re not going to come until my knot is inside you.”  Dean let out a sort of whimper, and Cas could see his eyebrows pinched in something like worry or concentration.  “Do you need a ring to help you, Dean?  Or can you handle it?”

“I can handle it,” Dean rumbled out without pause.  “I’m good, Cas.  Don’t stop.  I want to.”

Cas kept fucking his fingers hard in and out of Dean’s hot, perfect hole.  “You’re so good, Dean.  So perfect for me.”  Dean pulled in a sharp breath, but his body relaxed slightly back into the bed.  “My precious, gorgeous omega,” Cas whispered and licked gently over Dean’s balls, sliding his fingers out.  He slipped the plug over Dean’s hole, letting it lubricate in Dean’s slick and pressed it in just as the song was reaching its climactic chorus.  He pushed the plug forward, rocking it to the beat of the music and pressing it slowly, but forcefully into Dean’s ass.  It was a big one, intended to keep Dean open enough for Cas’s knot later, and Cas watched closely as Dean’s little hole spread and stretched around the wide toy.  It looked so fucking hot, that he couldn’t help but press his face forward and squeeze in until he could swipe his tongue over the stretched, taut skin of Dean’s hole around the plug.

Dean gasped and squirmed away momentarily, then panted roughly as Cas continued licking and pressing and rocking the plug.  Then it slid into place and Dean moaned quietly.  Cas rocked the plug around in a circular motion to the last few lines of the song, then rose up and moved off as the next song—another fast, driving tune—kicked in.  This one was a Metallica tune, one of Dean’s favorites.  Cas stepped over to the table, picking up the crop.  He moved quickly back to Dean, taking advantage again of the rhythm of the music to guide him, and laid two quick strokes to the bottom of Dean’s feet.

Dean’s legs lurched against his bonds but had nowhere to go, and Cas followed up with a few more strikes, not hard, but he knew they would quickly seem more than painful enough.  To keep Dean guessing, he stepped up the side of the body and dropped a slap with the tip of the crop down on Dean’s left nipple.  A surprised sound a bit like a squeak came from Dean, and then he bit down on his lower lip.  Cas danced to the music around to the other side of the bed, and after a pregnant pause brought the crop down on Dean’s other nipple.  His chest jerked back into the mattress slightly, but he made no sound.  Cas danced about, enjoying the song and his lover stretched out at his mercy before him, bringing the crop down at irregular moments on the soles of Dean’s feet, his nipples and along the soft, sweet, smooth skin of his exposed underarms.  They bloomed red quickly and looked gorgeous enough that Cas found himself interspersing those strokes with swipes of his tongue, leaving the pink skin shining and wet, and then slapping the crop into them again.

His own cock was now hard and angry, too, rivaling Dean’s with its need for release.  He was starting to find it hard to ignore, the pulsing pressure, pounding at his groin and constantly reminding him of his own desire.  He could feel the drug working, pressure at the base of his cock starting to mount.  But he forcibly ignored all of it and concentrated on giving Dean what he needed, knowing that each stroke gave Dean a flare of sharp pain followed by a building burning sensation everywhere they had fallen.  Even if he hadn’t known how much Dean got off on those feelings, he could see it now in every part of Dean’s body as his chest was rising and falling in great, strong breaths, so close to panting, and his cock jerked and pulsed over his stomach, the head swollen and red and leaking in urgency.

When the song ended and receded to a slower classic rock ballad, he let his arm drop to his side again and spent several seconds breathing slowly, trying to pull his own hunger and want back.  He stepped slowly around the bed, letting his fingers dance idly over Dean’s skin here and there, especially over the places where it was pink or red from his efforts.  He stopped at Dean’s head for a moment, running his fingers through the other man’s hair, sliding his palm over the round shape of the scalp underneath.  Every part of Dean looked and felt like a work of art—like the masterpiece sculpture of some ancient artist who’d been inspired by something divine.  The crop dropped to the floor from his fingers, and his hands slid down the side of Dean’s face, over his neck, across his shoulders and stopping where they grasped the rounded flesh of his upper arms just below the shoulders.  He spread his fingers and gripped into the flesh, feeling the strong, solid muscle of Dean’s arms.

His cock twitched, and suddenly he was kneeling on the bed next to Dean’s head, grabbing his hair and tugging Dean’s face to one side, shoving his cock hard and fast between those soft full lips.  Dean sucked hard immediately as if to help pull him in, and he was immediately fucking fast and quick into Dean’s mouth, forcing himself to keep it shallow, knowing he was much too close to blowing his load.  Dean sucked him hard and made noises in his throat as if of appreciation and hunger, and his mouth was so hot and wet and perfect around him.  Fuck, but Dean was amazing—so beautiful and strong and—

He lost it.  He felt his orgasm smashing over him, and he just managed to pull out and wrap his own fist around himself in time to aim his pulses to land over Dean’s face, splashing his lips and cheeks and blindfold with his cum—marking him as Cas’s, as if there could be any doubt.  Dean was breathing hard and licked his lips, gathering the cum he could reach into his mouth.

“Fuck, yeah,” he heard the omega whisper, almost as if to himself, and he felt a wonderful joyous sensation, like something taking flight inside his chest.

_ Fuck, yeah _ , he thought, and chuckled to himself.  He closed his eyes and just knelt there, hovering over Dean’s face for several moments until his shakiness had eased.  Then he got to his feet, picked up the crop and stepped back over to the table. 

He looked at his watch laying there, and noted he’d been at this for fifty minutes.  He realized the CD was on its eleventh song and he had no idea when that had happened.  But it was perfect—the perfect fit for them.  Dean was hungry and ready, but not desperate yet.  He would be.  Cas picked up the lighter and lit a candle, then took the candle and stepped back to Dean.  He thought back to the first time he had decorated Dean’s skin with wax—their first painplay experience together.  He’d known Dean thought wax was a substandard tool for pain, and agreed to it only because it was Cas, and because it was a safe place to start when he was still recovering and being regularly examined by doctors.  But Cas loved wax—loved the way it stayed where you put it, making the hot sensation linger and then slowly morph to a cool, cold pressing on the very same spots.  Not to mention how sexy Dean looked with dots of wax spread over his smooth canvas of skin.  Since then, Dean had pushed Cas until the only wax they ever used now was the hottest wax in Cas’s supply.  This wax melted only at a high temperature with a special wick to help the small fire of the lit candle burn sufficiently hot.  The wax burned immediately on hitting the skin, and Dean loved the sensation.  He had been begging Cas for weeks now to use it directly on his cock and balls, but Cas had so far refused.  Planning this day he still hadn’t been sure if he was ready to go that far, but he knew that whatever he did with the wax would still be the perfect preamble for the cutting finale he had planned.

Walking back over to the bed, he crawled onto his knees between Dean’s thighs, holding the candle carefully off to the side until he was ready.  He settled his weight down on his heels and looked down at his mate.  Dean’s cock was hard, resting on his stomach, as if reaching up to try to find some satisfaction there.  But otherwise he looked calm.  He was breathing evenly and his muscles looked relaxed, his arms sagging against his restraints.  Cas’s come still dotted his face, drying there and looking fucking perfect to Cas’s eyes.

“How do you feel, Dean?”

Dean’s head shifted slightly to center, and he licked his lips.  “Good.  Really good, Cas.”

“Mmm.  Well, I think we can do better than that.  What do you think?”

Dean inhaled a small, quick breath and nodded.

“What do you want, Dean?”

Dean’s brows pinched slightly.  “I…just…I don’t…”

“Do you want more pain, Dean?”

“Yes,” came the immediate, low, rumbling response.  It was like it was from a different part of Dean.  “Fuck, Cas.  Please.”

He pulled the candle in over Dean and let a small amount drip onto his chest, drawing a thin little circle right around his nipple.  Dean hissed loudly and his arms jerked against the restraints.  He was instantly breathing harder.  Cas waited for a moment and let the music take him up in its beat again, sinking into it for 8 beats, 16, 24, and then he drew a similar circle around Dean’s left nipple.  Dean shouted roughly and jerked again.  Cas leaned forward and licked a long, wet stripe up the middle of Dean’s chest, stopping at the hollow at the base of his throat.  He immediately pulled back and followed it with a line of wax landing over the wet mark of his saliva, then stilled and let a larger amount pool in that spot below Dean’s throat.  Dean rumbled a low sort of “nnnnhhh” noise throughout that finally subsided about 16 beats of the song after Cas had stopped the wax.  He was breathing hard, almost panting now and his hips were rocking in a sort of small, fucking rhythm.  Cas wondered how the sheet underneath him felt against Dean’s ass and back that must still be sore from yesterday, and if the plug was rocking against his prostate with the rhythm of his hips.  Dean’s cock was certainly feeling its own urgency and need again, the head getting that swollen angry look and fresh precum having clearly dribbled out, stringing from the tip down to Dean’s skin beneath it.

Cas let some wax build up in the candle and then when the final chorus of the song drove angrily into gear, he tilted the candle over Dean’s cock and ran a thin stripe quickly over the length of his shaft, right over the ridge of vein that pulsed under the skin there.  This time Dean let out a shout bordering on a scream and his body lurched hard, shaking the bed beneath them.  For a moment, Cas felt a flash of fear that he had gone too far, but then he saw that Dean’s hips were rocking in that same rhythmic circular fucking motion, and much more strongly and urgently.  After the shout, Dean’s mouth simply dropped open in a rough pant as his body seemed to rock in the bed of its own accord.

As the song ended, Cas stepped back to his table.  It was time.  He picked up the last two long tie-straps he had and stepped back to the left-hand side of the bed.  He secured one end of each tie to each of two hooks on the underside of the bed, about halfway and three-quarters of the way up the length of the bed.  Then he stepped around to the right-hand side.  Sliding the cloth of the lower strap carefully underneath Dean’s needy cock, he tied the other end to the third hook, letting it apply a soft, taut pressure against Dean’s pelvis.  Then he tied the other strap to the last waiting hook, holding Dean’s chest tightly in place.  The ties shouldn’t hurt him or disrupt his breathing, but he hoped they would prevent him from moving too abruptly and affecting the cuts Cas had planned.  He then picked up the antiseptic and gauze and, opening the bottle, stepped to Dean’s side.  He wet the gauze, and as the next song picked up, he swabbed Dean’s entire stomach carefully.  The cold, wet sensation caused Dean to flinch at first, but eventually he slowly seemed to relax again a bit, and his hips slowed their rocking.  When Dean’s skin was carefully cleaned, Cas stepped back over to the table, poured a small amount of the liquid in the little bowl he had waiting, and picked it and the razor blade up.

He crawled onto the bed between Dean’s legs one more time and settled in carefully, staring at Dean’s stomach and the cuts already there and picturing his work over them.

Then he looked up and took in Dean’s face.  He looked— _ fuck _ —he looked blissful.  His body was slack against the bed and restraints, and his head was tilted back slightly, the stains of Cas’s come still visible just a bit here and there on his cheeks.  His mouth was slightly open and he was breathing evenly, but his lips were turned up at the edges in a soft, slight smile.

Cas held the antiseptic bowl in his left hand and raised the razor blade in his right.  “I love you, Dean.”  He touched the blade to Dean’s abdomen, high up just above the lower ribs, made a quick, shallow slice, straight down, careful not to hesitate or draw it out.

Dean let out a breath that was part moan and part surprised gasp.

“You are beautiful.”  He added a curve to the left of the line and finished it off with a kick-out down and to the left.  Blood was oozing from the thin cuts, but it looked clearly like a reverse “R”. 

Dean let out a soft “aaanh” and his hips squirmed a tiny bit, but had little room to move now. 

Cas’s next cut added onto and changed the scars that were already there.  He had to work more thoughtfully now.  He’d have to cut deeper in places to replace and remove the existing scars where they wouldn’t fit with the new ones.  “You are strong.”

“Fuck,” Dean moaned.

“You are brave.”  Cas made two thin shallow curving cuts, joining prior lines on Dean’s skin.

“Cas…” Dean whispered, his head rocking side to side now.

“You are daring.”  Cas sliced a little more deeply for the next shape, obliterating two older weak slashes.

“Yesssss…” 

“You are loyal.”  Dean was breathing hard and his cock twitched with each stroke of Cas’s blade.

“Oh…aanhhh…”

“You are kind.”  And so he continued, watching Dean pulse and thrill below him.

“Oh fuck…Cas…”

“You are playful.”

“Yessss.”

“You are smart.”

“Unh…Cas…”

“You are perceptive.”

“Fuck.”

“You are resilient.”

“Fuck me.”

“You are generous.”

“Cas.”

“You are passionate.”

“Please.”

“You are so fucking sexy.”

“Oh fuck, Cas, so fucking good, come—”

“You are invigorating.”

“—on, Cas!”  Dean’s voice shook with need and desire and Cas suddenly noticed the nagging pulsing strain at his own groin—his cock sticking out hard and hungry before him.  The pressure at the base of his cock where his knot was waiting was undeniable.

“You are skilled.”  He dipped the blade in the antiseptic and then slid it over Dean’s skin again.  Maybe this was too much—too many cuts for one session.  Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed them both so far.  But he was so close now.

“Aaannhhh,” Dean breathed.

“You are honest.”  Cas longed to wrap his hand around both their cocks and strip them until they came.  He needed release so bad.  He couldn’t imagine how Dean was feeling.  So close.  He made the cut, this one shallow and curling, joining with one already there.

“…yesssss….” Dean hissed. 

“You are spontaneous.”

“…alpha…”  Dean’s voice was just a whisper now, his head rolling endlessly from side to side.

“You are vibrant.”

“…uuhhh…”

“You are empathetic.”  Cas needed to touch Dean.  Hold him.  Be inside him.

“…ffuuu…”

“You are worthy.”  The second to last stroke.  Then they could be touching again.

“…Casss…” 

“You are precious.”  He slashed across an existing scar in an “x” shape and then moaned aloud with release.

Dean continued rocking his head and whispering soft, hissed words below him.  “Need...fuck…Cas…please…”

Cas slashed at the ties across Dean’s pelvis and chest with the blade until he had cut them free, then leaned back and up and around to each corner to do the same to the ties at Dean’s ankles and wrists.  His right hand flung the blade to the floor in a corner as his left hand splashed the antiseptic in the little bowl onto his own abdomen, then let the bowl clatter to the ground.  He shoved his hands below Dean’s thighs and lifted up, pressing them up and then forward and down back onto Dean’s chest.  He held both with one arm as he reached down and twisted the plug there a few times then tugged it free.

The music was pounding in his ears again, driving his need, refusing to release that hungry, urgent, frantic feeling of desperation.  He gripped his cock, stroked himself a few times, smearing his precum down his shaft, and then pressed forward, watching the head of his needy, swollen cock press against Dean’s still puckered and tight-looking little hole.

_ Oh fuck. _  Dean was so perfect.  So beautiful.  As if made to fit just him.  And the prep had helped because he already was slipping in past the rim and smoothly sliding forward.  He adjusted his arms, releasing Dean’s legs and letting the weight of his chest hold them down, scooting his knees forward and leaning into his mate’s body.  He pushed in and pressed forward until his cock was fully engulfed in Dean’s smooth, hot, fucking amazing hole and his elbows rested on either side of Dean’s head.

“You’re my life, Dean,” he murmured, pressing his lips to Dean’s and slipping his tongue out to lick and caress and explore.  He rocked his hips back and slid forward, a half-stroke, testing, feeling out his position.  Dean moaned and Cas felt Dean’s hands slide gently onto his biceps, holding on with the slightest soft grip, as if he didn’t have the energy or muscle control to do more.  Cas rocked his hips back further, and slid back in.  Then again.  Feeling Dean’s body, sucking and holding on to him, dragging him back in.  Sex had never felt like this before Dean.  He had never felt every sensation, every millimeter of connected skin and bodies, with such fire and clarity before.

He slid a palm up over Dean’s blindfold and tugged it free.  And then Dean was opening his eyes, looking at him, his eyes dazed and dark with lust and something else.  He stared into those eyes as he fucked Dean steadily, losing himself in them and the feeling of Dean’s warm caress on his cock.  He pushed himself into Dean over and over again, losing track of everything but Dean’s eyes, his lips, his breath, and his ass opening up for Cas and squeezing around him.  But then a different song was playing and it was fast and urgent and Cas was fucking harder and faster now, his hips shoving forward forcefully, his cock slamming into Dean, and then he felt Dean’s rim pushing back, preventing him from getting in, and he realized it was his knot and he needed to be inside of Dean—be a part of Dean.  He rammed into Dean, staring into those startling green eyes, feeling Dean’s wonderful, warm, solid and yet accepting body below him.  His hands slid up to cup either side of Dean’s face and he slammed forward rough and hard against Dean.  Dean grunted and his eyes opened wide.

“Cas…”  His voice sounded like a prayer.  Or a blessing.

Cas plowed forward again and his knot popped in, slipping past Dean’s rim and he felt Dean’s body sucking in all around his cock and knot, hugging and caressing and squeezing him.  Dean’s hands squeezed around Cas’s biceps and Cas could feel Dean below him, pulsing his release out between them.  Dean’s eyes were shining and wet, and his mouth had opened to release a gasp, and Cas was gone before he even felt his orgasm coming.  He was just there—pulsing and jerking inside of Dean, holding Dean’s face in his hands, breathing roughly over him, his hips rocking back and forth just slightly, and panting out his usual endless litany.  “Oh Dean...you’re so perfect…so good, Dean…oh fuck oh god oh fuck fuck fuck my precious Dean I love you so much oh god…”

 

Fifteen minutes later, Cas was carefully cleaning Dean’s cuts as Dean watched.  He looked up at Dean’s face, which looked more relaxed and satisfied than he had seen it in weeks.

“Was that…did you enjoy that?”

Dean’s eyes flicked up from watching the work on his stomach to meet Cas’s.  “Are you kidding me?”

Cas shrugged and dabbed at another curving cut.

“Fuck, Cas, that was incredible.”

Castiel felt a warm sensation in the back of his neck.  He’d been confident he had learned Dean by now—how hard to push, how to trigger his pleasure.  But he couldn’t help the thrill he felt to have that last reassurance.  Only one last thing to do.

“Stay here,” he said to Dean and picked up his bowl, washcloth and antiseptic bottle.  He picked up the flat panel mirror he had laid on the table and the piece of paper next to it and went back to the bed, settling next to Dean.

“I’ve been thinking for a while about your scars.”  He felt Dean stiffen and rushed on quickly.  “Not them, but your feelings about them.  I thought maybe you would someday want to get a tattoo over them.  Like people do to re-cover tattoos they don’t want anymore.  And tattoos do have an element of pain,” he added in a lower voice, earning a soft chuckle from Dean.  “So I considered learning to tattoo so I could be prepared to provide you that experience if you ever wanted it.  But then I realized I already had skills that might actually fit your desires even better.”

He handed the mirror to Dean.  “If you don’t like this, it doesn’t have to be permanent.”

Dean held Cas’s gaze for a moment as he took the mirror, his eyebrows raised a bit.  Then he held the mirror up above his stomach, tilted it and stared at the curving lines.  He was silent for a long moment. “It’s not just...crossed out or messed up, is it?”  Dean’s head tilted as he clearly tried to picture it in reverse.  “It’s not English.  Is it Cyrillic?”

“Yes.”  Cas opened up the folded paper and held it up for Dean to see.  “This is what I believe it will look like as it heals and blends together.” 

Я выжил во всех отношениях

Dean stared at the letters.  His eyes flicked back and forth from the mirror to the paper.  He set the mirror down on his chest.  “What does it say?”  His eyes were cast down, toward the mirror resting on his chest.

“It’s based on an old Russian saying—something that was important to me for a long time.”  Cas set the paper down on top of the mirror and reached out to take Dean’s hand in his.  “It says ‘I survived against all odds’.”

He was holding his breath.  He didn’t want Dean to feel pressured.  He thought about how to reassure him—of so many things.  That they could do something else—a tattoo, plastic surgery.  That he was beautiful regardless—beautiful before any scars, beautiful after Alastair’s scars, beautiful now.  That he loved him.  Always.  With these scars, other scars or no scars.  It all sounded pathetic in his head.

Then Dean’s hand was squeezing his and he saw those green eyes on his.  They were wet.  They were more than wet.  Tears had slid out of Dean’s eyes and were heading down his cheeks.  “What time is it?”

Cas blinked.  His gut was twisting strangely and he could feel a weird shrinking sensation is if he were getting smaller.  He shook his head.  He had no idea what time it was.

“I was just…I was wondering if it was too late for us to get married today.”

  
  


THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Well. That's it. I've got no other ideas left for this particular iteration of Destiel. I hope you all liked it. It's maybe really weird and self-indulgent to admit it, but I am really going to miss this story and these boys.
> 
> Thanks to Umbreon, both for being my first commenter on any fic ever! and for encouraging me (months ago) in the "cutting as healing" concept. I'd had it in my mind and been concerned it wouldn't work for readers the way it worked in my head. Hearing the same idea come from someone else really made all the difference that it wasn't just some sick, perverted concept that only my own twisted mind would appreciate. 
> 
> Thanks SO MUCH to fandorica for beta reading this immensely long timestamp!
> 
> And please forgive any errors in the Russian translation included in this chapter. I do not speak or write Russian, so this could definitely be erroneous, but hopefully the intended result comes through. I got the idea for the specific quote from an episode of Forged in Fire.


End file.
